Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 598

Old Jack's potion brewing was supposed to start this week, but due to a series of unexpected events involving Jenkins, they only began their preparations on Sunday night.

Before they began, Jenkins had brewed another bottle of [Witch's Kiss] for Old Jack to inspect. Jack deemed the potion's quality acceptable, but a far cry from excellent.

However, considering Jenkins had learned to brew potions without any guidance, the result was still quite impressive.

The precious plant Old Jack had acquired was called 'Salinok Grass' in this era. Yet it looked less like grass and more like a rather unremarkable flower.

Old Jack urged Jenkins to be careful, then tossed a small stone toward the flowerpot. Before the pebble could even touch the flower, its petals abruptly flew open like a gaping mouth. The stem shifted its angle slightly, and the flower swallowed the stone whole. A faint crunching sound followed, and then everything returned to normal.

"Are you certain that's a plant and not an animal?"

"Of course. The books are quite clear on the matter. It's definitely a plant."

There was an old legend behind the Salinok Grass, a love story about a young couple named Sali and Nok. Old Jack recounted it to Jenkins while they cleared the table.

Like most tragic romances, Sali and Nok's story was one of misunderstandings that ultimately led to their deaths. Legend claimed the plant was born from the vengeful spirits of the lovers, whose bodies had been burned to ashes and scattered.

"It's a cautionary tale for young men and women," Jack explained, "a reminder to cherish their affections and seek a partner with marriage in mind. The social climate was very different when I was young. Hmph! The youth of today..."

After three hours of meticulous work, a full cauldron of liquid and at least fourteen pounds of solid ingredients had been reduced to a mere shallow pool at the bottom of a bottle. Jenkins estimated that the total volume of the dazzling golden potion couldn't be more than ten drops.

The liquid radiated its own light, a brilliant hue that inevitably brought gold to mind. When he tilted the glass vial, the potion didn't slide but scattered into tiny, rolling golden beads, a truly tempting sight.

The potion was called the [Gifted One's Song], and only an Enchanter could consume it. Its effect was deceptively simple: a single drop would invariably cause one of the user's abilities to evolve. However, the direction and nature of that evolution were completely unknown, making it a considerable risk.

Still, the implications were astounding. The evolution of an ability usually helped its user gain a deeper understanding of the world. To induce such a change through external means was something Jenkins had never even heard of.

The [Gifted One's Song] could be used multiple times by the same person, though it was ill-advised to take it too frequently within a single week. That was its only limitation.

Although they had used the church's facilities, the potion belonged to Old Jack, since he had provided all the materials and done most of the work. By his estimation, the batch they'd just created should yield about twelve individual drops.

He planned to keep three drops for himself, sell eight to the church, and give the final drop to Jenkins as payment for his help.

"Is that really alright?"

Jenkins didn't feel he had contributed much. While the moment he'd manifested the sapling had been spectacular, the most strenuous task he'd performed all night was washing the glassware.

He had already separated a single drop with painstaking care, placing it inside a white container that resembled the phalanx of a little finger. When Jenkins accepted it, he realized it actually felt like bone.

"It has a shelf life of six months. Don't waste it."

He gave Jenkins an impatient pat on the shoulder and shooed him out of the room. Carefully separating the rest of the potion would be a long and tedious process. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on noᴠelfire.net

Surprisingly, Chocolate, who usually showed an avid interest in any and all food, had no reaction whatsoever to the [Gifted One's Song]. When Jenkins returned to his room, the cat was wrestling with the metal block, batting it back and forth with its front paws. It trotted over to sniff the vial in Jenkins's hand, then turned away dismissively and went back to swatting its toy.

Now that was a first.

Jenkins had no intention of using the drop himself; he was quite content with his current abilities. But an item would surely fetch a high price. Perhaps he could find the right opportunity to sell it.

After another trip to Ruen to produce the first batch of [Hemolytic Toxin], Jenkins was ready for some rest. But the night was not as peaceful as he'd hoped. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep when a massive explosion—BOOM!—in the distance jolted him awake.

He bolted from the bed, snatching the little furball from beside his pillow as he made a break for it. He hadn't even reached the door before his pace slowed. Glancing back at the window, he realized the ground wasn't shaking. It seemed to have been just an explosion, nothing more.

The sleepy cat squirmed in his arms, its tail flicking unconsciously against the front of his pajamas.

A few minutes later, Jenkins, now dressed, emerged from his room with a fully awake Chocolate in tow.

A small crowd had already gathered in the courtyard, where a head nun was ushering children back to their rooms. Jenkins greeted Bishop Parrold, who was so flustered he'd buttoned his shirt crookedly. The old man tilted his head toward the horizon. Against the eastern sky, a column of thick smoke billowed, so dark that even the night couldn't conceal it.

"Did a high-powered steam boiler at one of the big factories explode?"

He couldn't find a similar scene in the original Jenkins's memories. He couldn't fathom what, with this era's level of technology, could possibly cause an accident of this magnitude.

"Back inside, everyone! Go back to sleep!"

Someone, who sounded like one of the older priests, shouted from behind. The crowd gradually dispersed. Seeing that no one was paying him any mind or seemed interested in discussing what had just happened, Jenkins took a now wide-awake Chocolate back to his room.

Once startled awake, falling back asleep was never easy. The distant explosion had happened around one in the morning. Jenkins lay in bed with his eyes closed, counting cats, and just as his consciousness finally began to drift into the murky space between sleep and wakefulness, another massive—BOOM!—tore through the night.

This one was closer to the church; the glass of water on his nightstand rattled from the vibration.

"That one wasn't my fault,"

he muttered, lying flat on his back and draping an arm over his eyes.

He had no intention of going out to investigate. There wouldn't be any answers this quickly, anyway. Besides, even if a church team was dispatched for a mission, there was no way he'd be allowed to tag along.